Take Me Away
by Broken Blackk Dahlia
Summary: Two albino sisters are abducted by an eerie, hundreds-of-years-old legend and a psychotic killer. If they don't die first, adapting will be quite the challenge. T for violence, gore, coarse language, etc. Slenderman. Jeff the Killer. Creepypasta figures.
1. Prologue

**So I've gone through and revised all up to chapter six. The inspiration was drawn from a picture I saw seven or so months ago, of Jeff the Killer, Smile Dog, Slenderman, BEN, and a little girl (whose name I'm still unfamiliar with) living as a family. Anyway, I reduced the sue-ness of my lovely Xandra, and hope you guys like it~**

* * *

**Prologue**

A unique-looking girl sighed as she walked off of her high school campus, onto the rain-drenched streets. The heavy, musty smell from the the constant rainfall hung in the afternoon air.

She had snowy-white hair that fell to her mid-back. Her bangs looked as if they were dipped in blood, a dark red color staining the white locks. The fringe hung over her right eye and forehead. She was albino, with papery skin and blazing red eyes, and was rather short for someone her age, a sixteen-year-old was typically a bit taller than five-foot-one where she was from, but she just happened to get those lucky genetics.

She ran across a street as rain began to fall again, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. It had been raining on and off for hours. Rain for five minutes, stop for ten. Rain for twenty, stop for five. Uneven patterns that spanned out monotonously.

Her hair hung limply, dripping, as the rain steadily increased. Black-lined eyes quickly lost their lining and coal-colored streaks danced down her cheeks, the makeup blending with water and streaking pale skin.

Red eyes set on a figure in the distance; a tall, lanky figure, cloaked in black, and faceless.

_ Faceless._

A wicked grin spread across her features as she dug through her Volcom zipper hoodie pockets and producing a battered android. Nimbly, she dialed her house number. Numb fingertips pressed to the touchscreen.

_"Hello?"_ Came the voice of a little girl from the other end.

"Hey, kid, " The girl said, failishly flipping her soaked bangs to one side. Stray white hairs stuck to her forehead and were guides for the droplets of rain streaking her face. "I saw that Slender-guy again." She paused, hearing a gasp from the girl on the other end.

_"You're lying!"_ The little girl cried out loudly, panic clear in her eight-year-old voice.

"Oh, but I'm not, " The teen said smugly, stuffing one hand into a pocket. "I see him as we speak, actually." Red eyes, again, trained on the figure. Static came from her phone as she steadily got closer. She narrowed her eyes.

Her sister, the girl she was speaking to, had told her something about static starting up when you get close to the Slenderman. Thankfully, her turn was close. She would not have to put up with it for much longer.

_"Then get away from him! Before he gets you!" _

The teen snorted. "Okay, kiddo, don't get your panties in a twist. I'll be home in five."

There was a pause; the girl was probably looking around nervously, obviously overtaken by her extreme paranoia, caused by late-night Creepypasta reading and watching PewDiePie's walkthroughs of the game Slender. _"Ah.. Okay... Run! He might ge-"_ The teen hung up her phone and looked to where the mysterious Slenderman was once standing, to see nothing.

She sighed. _That little girl could get on her nerves sometimes._ The teen slunked along the sidewalk, deep in thought about what she would do upon arriving home. It was a Friday, so her parents parents would be home late... She could settle into her room, blasting her favourite music with a case of Mountain Dew and her computer.

After a few minutes of passing large houses, she reached an even larger one, the front lawn like a grassy marsh and the walkway slick.

With a final glance over her shoulder, seeing a motionless black-suited figure at the end of the street, she walked to the massive oak double doors and tore the key from around her neck and jammed it into the lock, twisting it, and scuffling into the large place she called home.

Out of sheer temptation, she looked back one last time and saw a figure with a white hoodie and black pants on standing beside the Slenderman.

"That's new.." she murmured, before kicking off her wet skate shoes and walking up to her room.

**...**

"She's different."

Static ripped through the air. It would give any sane person a headache. But the static-communicating monster's companion was far from sane. Oh, so far away.

The white-cloaked figure, the monster's companion, could not help but cackle. "Of course I'd like to have her. I want to make her beautiful."

More static.

"Yes, that _is_ what I'm talking about, Slendy."

The tall static-speaking monster shook his head disapprovingly as more static disrupted the patter of rain on the ground. Its long arms folded over its chest.

Rain dripped from the white-cloaked figure's black hair as his constant grin almost spread wider than it already was. "Well, I don't care what you think."

If the tall figure had eyes, he would have rolled them. Static.

There was a flash of lightening and rolling thunder.

And then they were gone.


	2. 1

**1.**

I sighed as I plugged in a cord to my stereo speakers to the flatscreen desktop on my desk. Cords were everywhere along one wall, the wall my desk was on, and a fairly new Acer laptop on a mounted shelf. My adoptive mother, Christina, called it old, just because it was from last year. Brand fucking new. But no, it's old, to her. I took it out of the recycling bin and rewired it, hid the IP address, and patched it into the neighbour's wifi.

I bet I sound nice, don't I?

_Hah, of course I do._

Nah.

My name is Xandra Addams (I find it ironic, somehow).

Well. My original name was Xandra _Rutherford_, but I was adopted by a rich couple who had a young Albino daughter. I, too, am Albino, if you couldn't tell already; demonic red eyes, powder-white skin, and long, straight snowy hair. I was truly bizarre to most; a prodigy in school, I have a kind of bipolar attitude sometimes (calm one moment, and raging at whatever a moment later), and a knack for hacking and scaring.

_Red Stars___by The Birthday Massacre came on, just as I stood, crossed my room, and threw the door open.

I walked down to the kitchen and dug through the fridge, getting the case of Mountain Dew I stashed behind a mountain of assorted foods. There was a bottle of champagne that my parents were going to get into, upon arriving home. I was tempted to break it and drain it of its contents, but... I just didn't know. They wouldn't blame me, they thought I was the most innocent, helpless being in the world; all because I was Albino.

_If only they knew._

It was about nine at night. My adoptive sister, Dahlia, was more than likely sprawled on her full bed, nose pressed to her iPad, reading some Creepypasta or watching a PewDiePie video (all of which Christina deemed 'inappropriate' for either of us, though we didn't care). Christina and her husband, Michael, weren't home yet, so I was free to do whatever I pleased for several more hours.

My bare black-nailed feet slapped lightly on the wood floor. I ghosted up the carpeted stairs, getting to the third story and poking my head through the opening in my sister's slightly-ajar door.

I smirked, noting that the lights were off, and only her face was illuminated by her tablet screen, fluorescent white light reflecting on her equally-white skin. I shuffled through my Volcom hoodie pockets, getting my phone and holding it below my face. I pressed the lock button, making it light up, and let out a quiet hiss that could have resembled faint static.

Her violet eyes flicked up to me and she let out a screech of, "SLENDERMAN!" She tumbled back, her tablet flying through the air as she made a desperate attempt to hide from the supposed 'Slenderman,' that was apparently me now.

I waited for realisation, that Slenderman doesn't have a face, set into her. After a moment, she got up and stomped over to me, smacking my phone out of my hand and screeching something inaudible, in her annoying eight-year-old voice.

"You were asking for it, " I said, picking up my phone and tucking it away again. I raised both of my eyebrows at the fuming girl before me, then turned on my heel to walk away.

That girl... Oh, everything scared her. She was the most paranoid person you'd ever meet. No joke. She always watched gameplays of the game Slender, read Creepypastas (a few of her favourites being Jeff the Killer, Slenderman, and Smile Dog), and watched some of the freakiest movies ever.

And she wondered why she was always so on-edge about everything! It was like her life consisted of eating, sleeping, and the Creepypasta wikia. She could reread the same one over and over again, and still be surprised when Slenderman got what's-her-face, or... or that cat!

Whatever.

I walked back to my room, feeling a bit odd when I would pass the gaping mouths of halls; I would get the chills if I looked into the black-engulfed space, the darker-than-black shadows making my throat tighten in the slightest bit.

Was I turning into Dahlia, with my slowly-developing paranoia?

_No, I couldn't be._

I brushed off the feeling and entered my room, hearing the song, _Let It Burn_ by Red playing from my speakers softly. Setting down my case of Mountain Dew by the onyx-topped desk, I swung myself into the chair and turned up the volume. I could feel the bass from the stereo speakers that sat around my room, all wired into one spot.

I lounged in the chair for a moment, then slammed my fingers into the serrated part of the soda box. The cardboard tore easily, and I got a can and pulled the tab up, hearing the pressure being released from the aluminum's contents.

A moment later, the song changed to _Sleep With One Eye Open_. I knew my sister would be pissed when she heard the bass from that... and the excessive use of the word 'fuck.' She hated that word, and I took advantage of it when Christina and Michael weren't home.

I turned up the volume just a bit more, then got up. I stripped down to my lace-topped boyshorts and demi-bra as I walked around my queen-size bed, searching for something to wear for pajamas on my cluttered floor.

I found a tight black tank top and Jack Skellington pajama pants that were just a bit too long. I slipped my red and black Volcom hoodie on again, then returned to my place in my cushy swivel chair. I got Christina's old laptop and started it up again, connecting the speakers to it.

Dahlia had told me about the Slender game several times in the past, and I was curious to see what was so damn scary about it. I really didn't understand. From what she said, Slenderman followed you through this forest, all while you collected eight pages, that have chicken scratch and kindergarteners' drawings scrawled over them.

Googling 'Slender download,' I got a long list of results. A Softonic one, slendergame dot com, absolutepunk dot net, shackgames dot com, aaand downloadslender dot com. I clicked on the last one, and clicked download.

As the file began loading onto the laptop, I got up again and jogged down the hall to Dahlia's room, knowing she would be both terrified and thrilled about what I would ask her.

"Kid, " I called, pushing the door open harder than intended; it flew back and slammed into the wall. I cringed at it, then looked at my sister, who seemed to be mortified by my sudden, and very loud, intrusion. Her silver iPad was clutched to her chest, a visible crack in the casing of it from earlier, when I scared her half to death with eerie lighting angles.

"What do you want?" she snapped defensively. She was probably expecting me to taunt her about this or that, or have me mock her reaction from my previous interaction with her. I'm not _that_ mean.

I chuckled. "I'm downloading the latest version of Slender. Wanna play with me?" I asked with a small smile, it wasn't my typical sarcastic smile, either. It was a legit one. I never really got to bond much with Dahlia, seeing as we were almost polar opposites.

Sure, we had a huge fascination with odd-ball, usually mortifying things; but these 'things' weren't quite the same things. She liked horror stories and movies, my fascination was with being a specialist in forensics.

You know, examining corpses and determining time of death, weapon used for death (if there was one), what kind of drug might have killed them, and whatnot. Things you'd see in shows like Criminal Minds (one of my addictions).

Dahlia gasped. "Are you _serious_?!" she cried out happily, launching herself off of her bed and onto me, her tiny arms locking around my neck as she hung from my slender frame.

"Yes, I'm serious. C'mon, " I said, then realized how dumb I sounded. She was on me. _She_ didn't need to go anywhere. It was _me _who needed to walk the twenty feet down the hall, to my room.

"WAIT!" my sister screeched, just as I came close to my door.

I stopped. "What?"

"Let's get some candy from the pantry!" With that, she dropped off of me and bolted down the hall. To my surprise, she didn't trip in the oversized hand-me-down pajama pants she had on.

Feeling as if I was being watched, I sprinted after my sister, hopping the rails on the staircases once I was five, or so, steps down each. I darted around a corner, all of the white rooms, with their black and gray furniture, blurs as I chased Dahlia.

Eventually, I got to the black oak-floored kitchen, where the glass door to the pantry was ajar. I could see the orange and purple designs on the pajama pants Dahlia had on through the glass, and walked up behind her. She was on one of the shelves, reaching for one higher up, where a horde of candy was.

Sour Patch Kids, chocolate chips (the kind for baking. You're not really supposed to eat them alone, but we do anyway), Now & Laters, sour apple suckers, Hershey's bars, Oreos, Chips Ahoy, and a long list of other things.

You would think, with all of the candy we had, all of our teeth would be filled or capped. But no, we ate mountains of candy, and had perfect teeth; as white as our own skin, if not whiter.

"I can't... reach it..!" Dahlia whined, trying to stretch out enough to snag a bag of Milano cookies.

I laughed to myself and hopped up, onto the shelf, and grabbed two bags of the sweets. "Come on, " I said, gesturing for her to follow as I walked out of the pantry.

"Okay!" she cheered, running past me and up the stairs.

I took it as a challenge, then ran up the stairs after her, rounding corners and passing ajar doors. I got those chills again - _Oh, dear God, I was getting paranoid._

I hurried into my room and plopped down into my cushy chair again. Dahlia put the cookies onto the desk and got a can of Mountain Dew for herself, making herself comfortable in my lap as I extracted the Slender files from the zipped folder they were in.

Once the extraction was done, I started up the game, and we settled in, expecting the worst.

Since I acknowledged my paranoia, I felt that this Slender game was going to be scary as shit, and, boy, was I right. The first time we saw him, I swear, I screamed louder than Dahlia did. I was _not_ expecting the static and distortion. I remembered my phone call from earlier that day and felt like all of hell was going to be unleashed upon us, if the legend of Slenderman taking people away after they catch glimpse of him was true.

After awhile of playing, and failing to get all eight pages in the game, we went on Youtube to watch a gameplay. We chose dragonx254's gameplay. I kind of laughed at how he was so chill the whole time. I mean, really, who could be _that_ fucking calm while Slenderman is on your ass, trying to kill you or whatever?

Insanity, damn it. Well, then he said that he had played Slender, like, twenty times, or something. So that was understandable... I guess.

We watched his Daytime Mode video, and 20 $ Mode. I saw a link for Tour Guide Edition and chuckled. I guess everyone thought he kind of phrased it like a tour guide would, so he made one specifically for it. Then, we watched one titled _How To Make Slender Not Scary._ I wanted to try what the guy did in that one. Funny shit.

Play _Red Light, Green Light_. Throw Slenderman a rave. Ahh, I laughed a bit too hard at those.

After that, we tried again at the game, and actually succeeded at getting all eight pages... after about twenty-five minutes of running from ol' Slendy.

After we closed the game and I shut off the laptop and reconnected my desktop, we were lounging around, listening to Funeral Suits. We had eaten the contents of two and a half of the Milano bags, half of one left.

"Girls, " Came a voice from the doorway. It belonged to Christina, but it scared me half to death - Dahlia, too. We were clinging to one another for dear life when we heard her voice.

She pushed the door open and looked at us, seeming a bit confused. "I was just up here to tell you we're home, and that we have friends over for a movie night... What's wrong?" Christina flipped her perfect, straight blonde hair and looked at us. Her light blue eyes were shining with confusion. That, and it was kind of obvious that she had been drinking a bit, too – too much dilation.

"We were just playing a scary game. It's nothing, really, " I said before Dahlia had a chance to babble on about what the game was based on. _Marble Hornets!_ She would have blurted, then Christina would go Google it with Michael, then come lecture us on scary stuff. Not happening tonight. Nope.

"Alright.. I'll trust you on that, dear.. Well, we'll be downstairs if you need us, " Christina said with a perfect smile, then walked away.

I shook my head. "That woman.. She's weird. Thinks we can't tell that she's having a drinking party with her friends." I sighed.

Knowing my adoptive parents and their tendencies, they would probably head to their room and get busy, while their friends would occupy the guest rooms - or even the couch - and get to 'work,' themselves. That, or they would pass out downstairs and wonder what the hell happened in the morning.

Dahlia cringed. "Sometimes they make me worry, " she said. For an eight-year-old, she was damn smart.

_ I've taught her well._

And then... my past. I had drug addicts for parents. It might have caused the albinism, but I couldn't be sure. I wasn't born with any defects or anything, not that I know of at least.

At a rather young age, after a rough beginning to life, I was taken away from the uncaring duo of meth junkies and was submitted to a children's hospital. I was about seven at the time, I think... Anyway, I contracted pneumonia two times in my voyage through various orphanages.

It was sad, but I didn't really care after a point, it was too normal for me.

I'd started near the tip of Florida's peninsula, and made my way all the way to fucking Oregon.

_Oregon._

Nobody wanted me so I was passed from several orphanages, checked into a hospital here and there for periodic treatments for the various health issues that I could be susceptible to due to my albinism.

In those times, I'd read through hundreds of books. It's all I'd ever known to do by then, and it didn't seem to be changing.

Eventually, Christina and Michael, who felt pity and wanted to help albinos such as myself, because of their own daughter, Dahlia, having the heartbreaking condition as well. They'd adopted one in the past, and she contracted pneumonia rather quickly afterwards. She was older than me, probably about seventeen, but her body was far worse than mine, immunity-wise. Subsequently, she died from the sickness.

That was just months before they drove out to Oregon to fetch me from a ratty orphanage full of whining children and positively horrible caretakers.

From then out, the age of twelve, I lived in the lap of luxury with a small, humourous child much like myself. Both adoptive parents had their own businesses and lived easily, driving expensive cars, living in a mansion of a place, in an expensive-to-inhabit part of Washington. I didn't mind any of it, as nothing was a worry to me then, and the weather was a plus too.

I learned various things from the books I got. Hacking ended up being one of my specialties, and I scared people and, when someone would call out my albinism, I'd... you know, hack their parents' computer anonymously and get some pretty bad baby pictures. Those would somehow be emailed to everyone in the school via an address I'd never used again.

I had a bit too much fun doing that kind of thing.

A few hours passed, I got a shower and was brushing out my long white hair, tainted by blood-red dye in the front; it was starting to fade, and I'd need to redye it soon.

Dahlia walked into my room, fully clothed in her pajamas, her short white hair dripping water.

"Can you help me?" she asked, holding up a pink-stained towel.

I nodded and beckoned her over. She sat between my legs, back to me. I towel-dried her hair roughly. She giggled and told me stop it when I ruffled her hair, after dropping the towel to my white-carpeted floor. I brushed out her white hair with my brush and patted her back.

"Done." I said nonchalantly, turning and putting on my Bring Me the Horizon playlist.

"Thank you!" Dahlia said brightly, her lavender eyes shining. I nodded, then leaned back, a satisfied smile on my face. We'd killed several cans of the Dew, which I, for some reason, considered an accomplishment.

A shrill scream pierced the air and I tensed up immediately, nausea sweeping me almost instantly.

"What was that?" Dahlia asked quietly, sounding as if she were going to cry.

I bit my bottom lip, my teeth clanking against the rings I had in my snakebite piercings. My hand shot to the drawer of my desk, and I rustled through it. I got a black-bladed switch and stood, flicking it open swiftly.

I heard Dahlia whimper from beside me. "What-what are you doing?" she asked, her eyes huge and brimming with tears. I wiped one from her cheek and frowned, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

I took a deep breath, then said, "I'm gonna go see what happened..."

There was another scream.

"Don't leave without me!" she screeched, clinging to my arm.

"Okay, stay close, though, " I whispered, holding my left hand - the one with the blade in it - in front of me, poised for the unexpected. I walked towards the door, hearing a strained man's yell echoing down the hall.

_ It was close, whatever in bloody hell it could have been._

I pulled my door open and screamed. What I saw... Holy _fucking_ shit, what I saw... The Slenderman! He was real! Real, damn it! And right in front of me!

Dahlia screamed and began to cry, babbling about how I should've ran earlier, and not just stared at him. She was wailing as a tentacle snaked forward, towards us.

"Fuck!" I cried, the cold blade dropping from my sweaty white hand. I was shaking, my red eyes were trained on this figure.. This.. this _monster_. "Don't hurt us! Don't hurt _her_!" I said shakily, trying not to start wailing like my sister was.

I was scared, so scared.

I felt like a helpless child again, that helpless little Albino child that my parents thought me to be.

_ Because that was exactly what I was._

_ Helpless._

Slenderman moved closer and closer, and I began to back up. Dahlia tried to run for the door, and I swore my heart stopped beating. I felt an icy hand on my stomach and I was pulled back into an equally-cold body, damp and smelling of rain and blood.

Soaked black hair fell over my shoulder, I could feel the presence completely now, pressed to my back. A cold blade, drenched already with blood, rose to the left side of my face.

"I think it's time for you to go to sleep."


	3. 2

**2.**

_"... I whispered in her ear, you better fear me, dear, 'cause I am death..!"_

I stood still, my wide red eyes fixed on the tall monster, who had a darker-than-black tentacle around my sister's neck. That cold blade, drenched with my parent's blood, was still pressed to my cheek, no doubt leaving a dull line of red in its wake. I dared not to move, as, if I did, it would press into my porcelain skin and spill red. If I blinked, the same would probably happen.

_"One more time! I whispered in her ear, fear me, dear, fore I am death!"_

The apprehension was overwhelming; even breathing made me feel as if I would heave. My stomach tightened as the cold, pale hand pressed to my stomach balled into a fist, taking the smooth fabric of my tight tank top with it. I heard a low laugh in my left ear, that coal-black hair falling over my shoulder, its damp tips tickling the side of my face.

_"I'll take everything you ever loved! I whispered in her ear, you better fear me! Fore I am death! Fore I am death! Fore I am death! ... Bitch!"_

Damn you, Oliver Sykes! Your fucking lyrics aren't helping me now!

That laugh deepened and sounded so goddamn psychotic. "That's right, _you better fear me, fore I am death_..!" The owner of the blade and hand said mockingly, before the blade was quickly drawn along the side of my face. My eyes shut the instant the pain started, my hands clenching tightly at my sides.

Blood dribbled steadily from the cut at the corner of my mouth, I could taste the strong metallic flavor of the it; it made me feel sick. The warm, sticky fluid ran down my chin and flooded over my skinny throat. I was surprised that there wasn't more blood there, but, as I opened my eyes, I saw why.

_One tentacle was keeping that cold blade from completely mutilating the side of my face._

It would have torn into an unbearable to view curling cut, possibly even taking to the back of my head if it weren't for the one dilemma it hit.

Slenderman had one of his long arms in my sister's grasp, as if he were comforting her, the other reaching to the person - or _thing_ - behind me. He was two or three feet away from me, signifying that the talk that he could alter his body's proportions at will was true. His faceless form was, both, terrifying and comforting at the same time, and I had no idea to why I felt that way.

"What the hell, Slendy?" The figure behind me growled lowly, the hand he had against my stomach twitching slightly.

I grimaced, looking down and seeing the blood making a path down my pale skin, into my tank top. Though it was black, I could see the red stain against the fabric.

Static rippled through the air. My hands shot up to my ears and I unconsciously hunched over, the blade catching the already cut skin at the corner of my mouth. I hissed vulgar things under my breath as the static continued on, Slenderman shaking his head disapprovingly at the person behind me.

Dahlia's wide violet eyes locked with mine for a moment; she seemed so on-end all of a sudden, probably because of the horrid person behind me, whose blade was slowly butchering my face. I supposed Slenderman wasn't all that bad, he seemed to be comforting her and protecting me from further damage.. kind of.

"Ah, but I told you, _I want to make her beautiful_."

I shuddered and stood up straight again, feeling daring enough to look over my shoulder, at who ever had just spoken to Slenderman. My eyes widened when I saw his face... it was _horrible_.

Blackened eyes that looked as if they were originally blue, faded to a cloudy gray. Pale skin, making him seem as if he was, too, albino. Cuts marring the corners of his mouth jaggedly, curling up towards where the corners of his eyes were at. Blood stained the front of his white hooded sweatshirt. And that was as far as I could see from where I was.

But he.. he would haunt my dreams.

Pardon me, _nightmares._

This was definitely someone I would see in my nightmares, maybe even _night terrors_. I may not even be able to escape him in my dreams. if I live to sleep another night, that is.

"Hello there, " he said wickedly, his pale orbs locking with mine. I wanted to scream, to get away from this monster. I would much rather be sided by the Slenderman, than _this_.

Then it hit me - _this _was the figure I saw at the end of the street when I looked out of the window when I got home!

I shook my head at my thoughts and looked at the carpeted floor of my room, seeing small droplets of blood staining the pure-white. Some of the blood dripping from the corner of my mouth didn't run down my chin, and, instead,dripped straight down; probably when I was hunched over, I realised.

I finally broke the gaze with this monstrosity and looked over to Slenderman and my sister, my watery eyes silently pleading for some kind of help, my pale hand raising to the corner of my mouth, the blood smearing on my fingertips and running down thin digits.

Slenderman's head turned towards me, as if he were actually looking at me, and he removed his hand from psycho, behind me, and pulled the blade away from my face. It dropped with a small thud, and I was pulled forward, to stand next to my sister.

Dahlia looked up at me, her teary eyes and tear-streaked face making me frown. I was on the verge of tears, too, but I was just happy that she was okay.

Sure, I called her annoying and what ever, but she was practically my world, the only thing that would keep me smiling. I didn't exactly have any friends at school; my albinism was just too weird for them to handle (hah, remind you of two jackasses I told you about earlier?).

So, she was like my best friend _and_ sister.

_ Oh, wow... that sounds depressing. How nice._

The small girl next to me suddenly jumped onto me, her arms holding tightly around my torso, her face pressed to my chest. If it were anyone else, they would have been slapped, but this was my sister. _She needed me._

"What's with the sudden change of heart?" Psycho asked Slenderman, who towered at my right. I decided upon calling Mr. Knife-to-Face 'Psycho,' because it was easy to remember, and I had no fucking clue to who the hell this guy was.

More static ripped through the air, as thunder rolled outside. I finally noticed that the closest window was wide open, cold gusts of wind rolling in, making the black silk curtains billow and twist at its sides. _That's how he got behind me._ Damn my dull observation skills!

Lightning split the sky as Dahlia tugged on the front of my bloody shirt. I leaned down a bit, my face becoming level with hers, my unbloodied hand rubbing small circles on her back.

"He's..." she began. Her eyes flicked up to Psycho. She said something more, but it was muffled, her frightened expressions telling me that, that bastard held eye contact with her, I just knew it.

I kept my red eyes trained on the small girl before me, the hand that was rubbing her back coming up and playing with the ends of her short a-line haircut. "What was that?" I asked in a hardly-audible whisper. I was afraid to speak any louder.

Wide violet orbs flicked back to meet my own red. "He's _Jeff the Killer_."

A nervous wave of nausea swept over me again; if I had no self control, I would've hurled then and there. But I could kind of steady myself. "From your Creepypasta-things?" I asked again, looking at this 'Jeff the Killer' person out of the corner of my eye. So Psycho had a name.

"Yeah, but he's _real_, " she said urgently, bursting into tears again, burying her face in my shoulder. I sighed, frowning, and stood up straight with Dahlia in my arms, sure she wouldn't care about the blood that stained my front and still dripped steadily from the corner of my mouth.

Honest to God, I was surprised that I could even talk with that cut there. The pain had begun to subside, but I was sure it would start up again later.

_Dead nerves._

The conversation between Jeff the Killer and Slenderman had gone on as I had questioned Dahlia silently. They had come to an agreement, of sorts, I concluded, seeing the two of them face-to-face. Jeff's blade had been tucked away into the pocket of his sweatshirt, the handle poking out slightly.

Slenderman turned to us and seemed to have an apologetic feel about him.

Jeff, too, turned to us, his grin seeming to tear wider than it already was; the horrific, curling cuts at the corner of his mouth gave me a view of his surprisingly white teeth, a mixture of blood and saliva dripping from the jagged tears in his flesh.

He got a wood box from my bookshelf - it contained all of the pocket knives and trinkets I found while living in Washington - and raised it high over his head. With a cackle, he swung down, and struck me in the head.

It hurt, I could feel more blood gush from the incision at my mouth, and I dropped, slowly fading into unconsciousness. I heard Dahlia's scream, then it went dead silent.

I wondered what would come of me.


	4. 3

**3.**

I slowly opened my eyes, my vision clearing slowly as I sat up to take in my surroundings. The last thing going through my mind was Jeff the Killer bashing me over the head...

I was in my room, the blood stains still on the carpet from where I stood before, the window was still agape, wind blowing in and making the curtains billow in towards my bed, writhing in the icy air. I kicked off the blankets and ran a hand through my hair, looking down and expecting to see my blood stained shirt and pajama pants.

But I wasn't wearing those, I was in a dress.

It looked kind of like one that Alice wore in the game _Alice: Madness Returns._ It didn't have the symbols on it, or an apron, but it had that gothic, fucking with your mind kind of appearance.

My hands smoothed over the front of the dress, my fingertips passing the end of it and over part of the black ripped tights that covered my legs.

Taking a look to the right of my bed, I saw shin-high Doc Martens. I slipped those on, then took note of the dresser in the far corner - the mirror mounted over it was shattered, shards of glass strewn over the wood top, some spilling onto the carpeted floor. I also noticed the blood that dotted the shards and dribbled to the floor, as if someone had broken it carelessly, or with their hands.

Swallowing thickly, I shook my head, then proceeded to open the door and step into the hall.

My eyes widened at the sight of the hall. Blood was splattered over the once-white walls, the floor stained red. The scent of rotting flesh and old blood was faintly in the air. I covered my mouth with my hand and resisted the urge to heave, at that putrid smell. Faint or not, it was _disgusting._

Walking into the bathroom, I flicked on the light, I saw something that made my heart damn near stop.

My face... It wasn't the fact that the cut that had laid open my face not too long ago was nonexistent, no... I had actual _tone_ to my skin. I wasn't pasty anymore, or anything. I had a fair, peachy tone. That wasn't it, though! My hair was jet black, falling down my back nicely, still straight. The front was still red, but it was... just so bizarre. And my eyes; they were a cloudy green, not that mortifying red color that I was so used to seeing.

This.. was weird.

I picked up my hair brush and ran it through my hair, smoothing it over and getting any kinks out. I quickly lined my eyes with black, then exited the bathroom, curious to see what had happened...

_Dahlia_!

How could I be so careless, to not think of her first?! Where was she? I broke into a run down the hall, slamming doors open every time I came to one.

Her bedroom, empty.

Playroom, empty.

Christina's office, empty.

Michael's office, empty.

Every goddamn room, _empty._

Everywhere I went on the top few floors, the rooms were void of _living _people. Blood was splattered everywhere throughout the house, a few corpses actually inhabiting the rooms. Amputated body parts lay carelessly in some places, quite disturbingly.

I ran to the stairs and slid down the rail, bounding into the living room. I was met by a boy, a few years older than myself, dressed in a white hoodie and black dress pants. He had dark brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a concerned smile.

"Xandra, are you okay?" he asked, hand coming into contact with my shoulder.

I kind of flinched, then frowned. "How do you know my name?" I folded my arms over my chest and looked this boy up and down again.

"We live together, duh?" The boy looked genuinely concerned for me, and I had no clue as to why. I felt fine. _He_ was the weird one, here. Claiming that he knows me, and that we live together.

I sighed, then ran my hand through my bangs. "Okay, I don't recall ever living with you... What's your name?"

"Jeff..." the boy trailed off, his eyes locking with mine. Sky blue on grass green. Jeff. _Jeff_. Jeff the Killer. This guy... Is this what he looked like before he got all... screwy? I could see the resemblance there, the face shape and his posture.

I wet my lips. "So... Where's Dahlia?" I asked slowly, changing the subject. Hell, I wasn't sure if she'd even be here, the way things were going. And that would be peachy. Just fucking peachy.

"Oh, Dad took her to get you something for your birthday." Jeff said with a small laugh. "I already have your gift, so I decided to stay here, so you wouldn't be alone when you got up."

_Dad?_

Michael?

Or... _Slenderman_?

Wait.

_Am I going insane?_

I have to be. 'Cause this shit is _crazy._

I was guessing that I had a skeptical look going on, because Jeff cleared his throat awkwardly and continued on. "Ah, Mr. Slender. Our _adoptive_ dad."

_Mr. Slender_? Are you _fucking_ serious right now?

Yep.

I'm insane.

"Mr. Slender?" I echoed, still quite skeptical.

Maybe this was some kind of sick joke that Christina and Michael are pulling! Maybe that's it, to get after Dahlia and I for our defiance of the late. We had gotten caught viewing 'scary stuff' several times within the past six months, and this might be to scare or trick us into not liking it anymore. _I hoped so..._

"Mark Slender. He adopted me when my brother and parents were murdered. A few years later, he took you two in... Man, that hit you took must have been bad, to make you forget all this..." Jeff trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

I heard a door open, and heard an eager, familiar yell.

"Happy birthday, Xandra!" Dahlia's happy voice rang through the room.

_ That's right.. it is my birthday. I forgot._ She ran in, and she looked normal, too. No albinism there. She had Michael's black hair and Christina's blue eyes, her skin about the same tone as mine. She was in a cute little dress, consisting of Halloween colors. She jumped onto me and hugged as tight as her little arms would allow her, and I couldn't help but smile.

_She was okay... and we were normal._

If this was a joke, I didn't mind it.

It made me happy, seeing us normally. Not paler than a sheet of paper with bizarre eyes, no, full of colour and normalcy.

"I'll be back, okay?" Jeff said, looking towards me, just as a suit-clad man entered the room. _Slenderman_.

I nodded, then he ran up the stairs, probably towards the room he inhabited. _But what about the blood and bodies?_

"Happy birthday, Xandra, " the suit-wearing man said with a warm smile, walking over and handing me a black bag. It was heavy, and it made me wonder what was in it.

"Open it~" Dahlia cheered happily, tugging on the side of my black dress eagerly.

I smiled. "Okay, okay, don't get your panties in a twist... I'll open it, " I snorted, sticking my hand into the bag. My fingers hardly brushed a box, just as Slenderman... _Mr. Slender_, interrupted my movement.

His hand touched my shoulder. "Hold on, I need to get my camera, " he said, before heading up the stairs, himself.

I sighed and nodded, leaning against the wall. This was so bizarre, really. I felt happy, but... it wasn't right. I stood up straight, then began pacing in circles around Dahlia, which made her giggle. My steps echoed off the wooden floors as I hummed a Black Dahlia Murder song.

_ Funeral Thirst._

Dahilia suddenly screamed, looking behind me at someone, _something_. It was that same terrified expression I saw, just moments before I was knocked out by Jeff the Killer.

Before I had time to turn around, something skewered through me, from my back - breaking ribs - to my chest. I couldn't scream, but I tried to take in a ragged breath as I was painfully lifted by whatever might have turned me into a shish kabob. The bag and box dropped to the wood floor, the contents audibly shattering.

_I wonder what it was..._

I breathed as much as the pain would let me, tears streaking my face, and looked down at my chest, to see that a smokey tentacle was what held me high. Blood smeared over it, the heavy scent of metal almost choking me.

"Run..." I tried to gasp out, looking down at Dahlia as my vision began to fade and I felt lightheaded.

A psychotic laugh came from behind me, just as I began to black out. "Happy birthday, " Jeff's voice sounded from beside me, just as I felt a cold blade effortlessly cut the skin at the corners of my mouth, sweet blood oozing from the new wound...

_**...**_

I shot up, taking a deep, ragged breath. My hand came to my chest, where that tentacle was, where it had broken my bones and severed flesh.

_Where was I now?_

The last thing going through my mind was that horrid dream. Scratch that, nightmare. I was right... I couldn't escape him, _ever,_ no.

Sitting up slowly, I took in my surroundings; I was on a black silk-quilted bed, in a very ornate room. Two walls, opposite of each other were papered with black victorian designs. The other two walls - one having a mahogany door, the other having two black-curtained windows - were papered with red Victorian designs.

A dark wood vanity was off to one side, black lace cloaking the top of the drawers and draped over the back of the cushy Victorian chair in front of it. A chandelier hung near the middle of the room, black chains holding it high, light bulbs giving off dim light.

I had an immense headache and the left side of my face was throbbing painfully. My hand came up and felt the slightly-curling flesh wound, and I shuddered at the feeling. My white hair curtained around my face as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet lightly touching the throw rug that covered the wood floor.

"What the fuck?" I asked into the eerie silence, my eyes fixing on the small spatters of blood that lead out of the room.

_ Was that from me?_

I slowly rose to my feet, bringing a pale hand up to rub my temples as I staggered to the door. My hand came to the knob, and I realized I was shaking. _Shaking_.

Shaking my head, I opened the door and stepped into the vacant hall, looking down it, to see lights mounted on the wall every few yards, giving off a soft glow.

Suddenly feeling sick, I leaned against the wall, hunching over. _'Deep breaths.'_ I told myself, bringing in long drags of the cool air of this mysterious house.

After a few silent minutes, I regained my posture and continued down the hall, red eyes flicking from left to right. This place looked so old, yet had working electricity. It had papered walls - not painted and plastered, _papered._ _Wallpaper._ There were several tables with candelabras once and awhile, too.

_Was this an illusion, or was I really there?_ That was the question. Was this reality, or some sick mind trip?

"Dahlia?" I asked the silence.

No response.

I frowned and continued along, down a staircase and around a few more corners, until I came to a room that looked like a normal living room. Damn close to how the one at home looked... A large TV had a familiar show flashing across the screen, _Ghost Adventures_, or something like that.

A head of white hair, bandage-bound on one part, emerged over the back of the couch.

_ 'Dahlia, she's okay...!'_

I was shocked and overjoyed, and I could tell that Dahlia was, too. I threw myself over the back of the couch and brought the frail girl to my chest in a hug. A few silent tears ran down my face and dripped onto her back as I held her, I honestly thought I wouldn't see her again, with the way I was mutilated and knocked out by that _freak_.

I heard a muffled 'let go,' and did just that, holding the small albino girl in front of me at arm's length. "Took you long enough, you've been asleep forever... Jeffy told me you were in a coma." she said, looking up at me with her thoughtful violet eyes.

Jeffy? _Jeffy?_ Was she actually _friendly_ with that motherfucker? Because it really sounded like it, the way she said his name... That nickname. _Jeffy._ I got the chills, a frown tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"_Jeffy_?" I choked out in disbelief.

"Yeah, Slendy is taking care of us, now that Mom and Dad are dead... And Jeffy stays with him."

Alright, this kid is fucking brainwashed, or something. We're living with the Slenderman - er, _Slendy._ Jeff the Killer... _Jeffy_, is living with us, too. That's really believable, yeah.

'Cause, you know, everyone is living with a ten-foot-tall man, _who is rumored to eat people alive_, and a psychotic killer.

I got up slowly and took a deep breath. This would take some thinking over to actually accept. Christina and Michael Addams are dead. I'm living with my little sister, a nightmare-like man, and a psycho. Yeah.

Suddenly, static ripped the air, intensifying my headache. I cried out and spat a curse or two, hunching over and blinking back the tears that stung my eyes. Something tapped my shoulder and my eyes set on a pair of leather dress shoes. _Slenderman_.

Straighening up, I was met with an apologetic vibe and a hand, a spool of surgical thread and a needle in the abnormally large palm.

_I could sew up my face._

"You okay?" I heard Dahlia's soft voice from behind me.

I sighed. "Yeah, I'm good. I just have a bitching headache..." I muttered the last bit, hesitantly taking the spool and needle from Slenderman. I would definitely be stitching up the side of my face, but I had to find my way back to the room I started out in, with the vanity and mirror. "Thanks, " I said, forcing a smile as best as I could, with that gaping tear. "Could you, maybe, show me where the room I started in is?"

Slenderman nodded and began walking back the way I came. I followed silently, taking in my surroundings as I did.

I lived with the Slenderman and Jeff the Killer.

Slenderman was not Mark Slender, and Jeff was not a normal teenage boy.

I was not normal, and neither was Dahlia.

_What did I get into?_


	5. 4

**4.**

A cold chill raced down my spine as I passed a dark door. I didn't get a good glimpse of it when I was approaching; Slenderman was in the way, walking a few feet ahead of me. I looked back, and saw the dark shadow it cast, and the small trickle of sunlight coming from the small gap at the threshold. I looked to the top, and saw "JEFF" carved messily into the dark wood, red paint - or blood, maybe - filling the grooves of the lettering.

"No wonder..." I muttered, a bitter and terrified feeling sweeping me.

I heard Slenderman stop, and I looked to him. It was then, that I realized that I had stopped moving. He seemed to be standing expectantly, still facing the way he was going.

_ He didn't need eyes._

_ He saw all._

With a sigh, I carried on. Slenderman, too, continued ghosting down the hall, passing numerous doorway, some less intimidating than others.

Eventually, we came to the room I started in, Slenderman slipped through the door, having to duck down to clear it. He turned a knob, that I hadn't noticed before, that made the lights brighter, to where it was much easier to see.

"Thank you, " I said with a sad attempt of a smile. I couldn't really smile, without my face hurting. You know, with that huge-ass cut on the left side of my face? Yeah.

Slenderman nodded and slipped out of the room, the door brushing shut, leaving me to myself.

I glanced into the mirror on the vanity, and got my first glimpse of that fucking gorgeous cut. Dried blood was caked around the long cut and I could kind of see the red-stained white of my teeth through it. I tried not to gag at that, and continued taking in the damage. Flaking blood was down my neck, into the tank top I still wore, and pulled at the skin of my neck dryly, cracking and peeling away in spots.

I leaned over the front of the vanity, examining the wound carefully with shaking fingers. Red eyes squinted and pale fingers brushed over the mutilated skin hesitantly, the not-quite-dead nerves in the mess of blood responding _horribly. _It felt like the wound was being ripped open, all over again, but tenfold the pain.

I let out a loud whine as I straightened up again, tears pricking my eyes. I think this damn cut hurt more now, than it did when I received it. How fucking wonderful is this?

The door to my room suddenly opened, to reveal a friendly presence.

_Slenderman._

Raising my eyebrows, I waited for some form of communication. My fingers wiped at the tears that spilled down my cheeks, surely mixing with excess blood.

Long arms came around from where they were behind him, in his large hands were several things. A cottony-looking rag, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a roll of gauze, cotton swabs, and medical adhesive.

I eyed the medical supplies for a moment, then took them, gingerly placing them on the black lace-topped vanity.

Static ripped through the air and I tried not to cringe. What was a bit different this time around, was that I heard a voice, clear as day, in my mind. It was deep and smooth; it was Slenderman's voice.

_ "Clean the wound, and then I will take you and your sister to your old home to get your things."_ the voice echoed slightly in my mind, then the static stopped.

Very peculiar, if I do say so myself.

_So this was how Slenderman communicated?_

"Ah.. Okay..." I murmured, turning and leaning forward in front of the mirror, picking up the rag and peroxide bottle. I saw Slenderman exit the room out of the corner of my eye, the door brushing shut, yet again.

_...To get your things._ So that means we really are going to be living with Slenderman.

This nightmare will be my life.

With a sigh, I leaned closer to the vanity mirror and opened the bottle of peroxide. I felt a bit gutsy, along with the need to get the pain of cleaning this morbid wound over with, and tilted my head, pouring the toxic cleaning agent directly onto the wound. I hissed, hearing the wound's own hissing and sputtering. The peroxide stung and bubbled, mixing with blood. It slowly dripped down my face, onto the vanity below.

"Damn it, " I hissed, bringing a pale hand to my mouth. I bit down on one knuckle, hard. It stung, feeling almost as if it was a flame, burning at the mutilated flesh.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up the rag and blotted at the wound, bringing the left side of my face closer to the mirror. My red eyes focused on the bubbly, equally red mess that was dribbling down my pale skin. Since I was almost whiter than paper, there would surely be a small stain in its place.

Damn albinism.

"Xandria!"

I jumped and lost my balance, smacking my forehead into the mirror. Red-tinted foam spattered onto the reflective surface. I hissed a curse and glared into my own reflection, unsettled snow-white anger looking right back at me.

"Oh, gosh. Sorry!" That eight-year-old voice aggravated me, but also soothed my frazzled nerves.

I breathed out, straightening up. "It's fine, " I murmured as I pressed the rag into the open wound, taking in another sharp breath at the sudden rush of nausea that hit. The nerves in that damned wound were still alive as could be, unfortunately. "I just, you know, have this rag stuffed into the gaping wound on my face." My voice was muffled by the rag stuffed into the incision, pressing to my teeth and drying out my mouth, leaving a fuzzy metallic flavor.

Dahlia cringed and backed up, towards the door as I gently pulled the blood-stained rag from my face. "Sorry, " she said, again. I guess I looked pretty damn deranged about then. My eyes were burning and watering, there was red foam on my face, and the cut was kind of jagged and just... nasty.

"It's okay, kiddo. I'll be downstairs as soon as I sew myself up." I said, forcing a small smile, just as Dahlia slipped out. A twitch of a smile came to her lips as she disappeared, surely retreating to her spot on the couch to watch Ghost Adventures.

With a sigh, I returned to my previous position, this time picking up the needle and thread. It would hurt, I knew it, but it had to be done... Unless I wanted to look like Jeff. I shuddered at the thought. Having my face permanently laid open for all to see, the jagged skin dead and grotesque, saliva and blood dripping from in between white teeth.

"Gross." I breathed, threading the surgical string through the eye of the needle. I leaned forward again, looking into the mirror. Nervous nausea hit me again, hands shaking, the needle gleaming in the light.

"Fuck!" I growled through clenched teeth, positioning the needle. I forced the needle through the bottom of the cut, taking in a sharp, strained breath. Proceeding to sew the wide cut, it soon had no real space between it, brought together in a blood-oozing makeshift repair.

I could see why Slenderman brought me the gauze; that was quite a distasteful sight. I let out a groan, then picked up the medical adhesive. Taking a look at the spongy roll, I paused, just leaning on the vanity for a moment. This all seemed so unrealistic.

Living with Slenderman, being a victim of Jeff the Killer's blade and living to tell the tale, and sewing up my own mutilated face. Seeing my sister happy in the hands of the two who killed her blood parents, my adopted ones.

Looking across the room, I finally noticed the black floor-length drapes beside the bed, covering a section of the wall. Wondering just what was behind it, I ghosted forward and ripped them open. A pair of glass and wood double doors were now before me, red and orange light of the setting sun pouring into the room and warming where the light reached.

Finally, some sort of peace calmed my edgy mind. After being on my toes since before waking, it was nice to feel that way. The warm sun rays thawing my snow-white limbs was a nice sensation, as well. I felt as if I had been asleep for days - of course, I probably had.

With a sigh, I returned to the vanity and looked into the mirror. Red met red, the sunset filtering making me more of a silhouette, against its light, in the mirror. Capping the adhesive, I pushed it and the roll of gauze to the side. As I turned around, I saw a pair of black skinny jeans laid out on the bed and my beat up Vans on the floor.

"What the hell?" I asked the silence, moving towards them.

Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal Dahlia, eagerly bouncing around with a large white hoodie in her tiny hands. "Slendy said you could wear Jeffy's sweatshirt!"

_What?_


	6. 5

**5.**

After eyeing the sweatshirt for a moment, I took it from my sister's small hands and gave a smile, before gently shutting and bolting it. Turning to the black draped door, my pale hands found the fabric and yanked it shut all the way.

"This is too weird..." I said under my breath.

_Why the hell was Dahlia calling Jeff 'Jeffy' Wasn't he scary or something? The name degrades him on so many levels, too._

Sighing, I rid myself of my old clothes, left in just my bra and panties. The room's temperature was normal, not hot nor cold. Though, goosebumps still rose on my papery skin.

Picking up the skinny jeans laid out, my face twisted with thought. Easily slipping into the jeans, I discovered a rip in the left knee. Usually it was the inside of the thighs that wore out first, because I walked everywhere and they brushed together. Rolling my eyes, I picked up the sweatshirt that I'd tossed down on the bed momentarily.

Red hues flickered over it. The article was at least clean, probably bleached, free of any blood stains from angry fits of killing Jeff may have had in it. Sadly its general condition wasn't too nice. The edges of the front pocket were frayed, probably from laying his knife inside it once he finished butchering his poor victims, and white stitching adorned the sleeves and ribs of it. Maybe from those few that fought back.

Slipping it on, I gave myself a once over. The damn jacket was huge on me, probably because Jeff towered over me.

_I wonder how old he is..._

_Why am I asking myself that?_

Shaking my head, I slipped on the black ankle socks and Vans that rested on the floor and went into the hall, looking around cautiously before trekking down its expanse as quietly as I could.

_No need to attract attention, _I thought warily, despite the fact that I lived in the magnificent home. Hell, it was a madhouse. I didn't want to live there. It was frightening, knowing that I lived with a psychopath, a legend that takes out your guts and puts them back in with plastic bags, and my little sister who seemed oblivious to the danger that surrounded her.

I heard the sounds of the television and knew I was going the right way, smiling as I heard Zak Bagans'yell over the speakers. It made me think of home, and the more I thought of home more thoughts of our parents flooded my mind.

_Christina and Michael are dead._

That was painful to accept. They cared so much about me, despite their tendencies, and they died because of me, my incapability to be like a normal person and feel apprehension in the presence of monstrous beings. I'm so stupid.

Silently cursing myself, I rounded the corner and saw the living room unfold before me. A head of white hair bound by bandages peeking over the top of the cushions. Ghost Adventures flashed on the screen. It was the Bubonic Plague episode, with the island people with the plague were quarantined and buried on.

My nose scrunched up as I thought about the disease of the buboes. It fascinated me, yet it seemed terrifying. Though, my favorite part of the seventh grade history class, ancient world history, was the unit on Europe and the Plague. Always a favorite of mine.

Hesitantly, I circled the couch and sat down beside Dahlia.

"Hi, Sissy." Dahlia said, momentarily taking her attention away from the television. She smiled widely at me. Her white hair was touching her shoulders again, I realised suddenly. She hated when it was like that, always keeping it so short compared to mine, spilling down to my mid back.

I smiled, leaning forward a bit and taking a small powder-white hand into my own, squeezing it gently. It was just how Christina did so many times before. Motherly and comforting, so reassuring.

The notion that I would have to step in and be that motherly figure, as well as the sisterly one, hit me like a ton of bricks. This new way of living would be quite something to adapt to. Being both the sister and mom wouldn't be an easy task for me.

Suddenly, a horrid sound of static ripped through the calm air. I hunched and clenched my teeth at it, which triggered the side of my face to throb in time to my heartbeat.

Hissing, I released Dahlia's hand and leaned back into the cushions of the couch. My face hurt like a bitch, then, and a trickle of blood started down my cheek, the large wound obviously reopening. A quiet cry of 'Oh my God' escaped my lips as I draped my arms over my eyes and dug my nails into the fabric of the jacket.

The pain was almost unbearable once more.

Static continued to disrupt the air and an angry voice echoed in response. It was faint, but I could tell that Slenderman and Jeff were arguing about something. No wonder the crackle was so hostile.

The two seemed to butt heads on all topics, being almost polar opposites. From what I understood, the only thing they had in common was killing and being nightmare fuel.

Then, after a slam, it stopped.

The voice and static.

_Gone._

That was concerning. Taking a deep breath, I got up and wiped the blood from my face on the back of my hand. Wiping that on my jeans, I walked in the general direction the sounds were in. Passing through two doorways, another hall came into view.

_This place is larger than I thought._

Walking down it, a slightly-agape door caught my attention. It was what looked like a library. I gently pushed through the door, to see Jeff hunched over his knees in a cushioned Victorian chair.

Thankfully, I was silent, so he didn't notice me.

_Or so I thought._

"Sleeping beauty is finally up, eh?" his breathy voice carried through the room smoothly, despite how out of breath he sounded. He hadn't even looked up.

I scowled at the nickname. "I guess so... What the hell happened to you?" I asked shakily.

I was in my right mind, terrified by him. He could've busted my head - my hand came up to my head at the thought - and he cut open my face. Then my fingers brushed over a bump, a line, and doing so hurt.

_He __**did**__ bust my head!_ I thought frantically, my fingers gingerly running over it again. Something came loose and I felt something ooze into my hair. I removed my fingers and saw red on the tips. I mouthed a curse, and looked from my hand to the killer.

"That's for me to know, " he said. "And for you to never find out." He looked up at me and smirked, despite the line of blood steadily moving down his forehead and over one eye.

Making a face, I pondered over what had happened. He could've fallen, or had a book drop on him... And then I saw a spiderweb of cracks on one wall, closest to the chair he was in.

"Fine, but tell me one thing." I said, narrowing my eyes. He hummed in response. "Was Slenderman in here?"

"You catch on quickly. You seem like you'd be an airhead, honestly."

"And you're an asshole." I snarled, glaring at Jeff. I could tell that he and I would have more than a few fights. "Just answer my damn question."

"Feisty, too How fun. I bet you gave your parents a hard time."

"Shut up! Answer me!"

"You just contradicted with yourself, there, doll." He slowly rose from his place, slipping his blade out of his pocket with ease. "How 'bout you make me answer you? I haven't had any fun cutting anyone since I knocked you out. Slendy won't let me out of the house." He rolled his eyes. "He's been making me play babysitter with your sister. The kid's adapted quite well to being here, surprisingly."

I took a breath. I didn't want to fight with him, not now. I woke up not even an hour before, from a several day slumber.

"No." I breathed, looking over my shoulder at the door.

_If I just-_

I didn't have any more time to react before he rushed me. My back was to the wall, hands held above my head by one of his, and his light blue-gray eyes locked with mine, that trickle of blood making him all the more menacing. The cold blade found itself against my throat.

One movement would mean my end.

That, or extreme stitches.

"You're such an ass." I said, trying not to show any fear. I didn't know where this boldness was coming from. All I wanted to do was shy away in a corner and plead not to die, honestly.

"You've already informed me of that, " Jeff sighed. "Now hold still. I won't kill you, but there will be some damage." He slowly trailed the tip of the blade down my throat, just grazing it, and onto the collar of the hoodie I wore. It cut into it briefly, and he completely changed paths. "And pain. You can't forget the pain."

I swallowed thickly. It was reassuring to know that he wouldn't kill me, but the other parts... They sent chills down my spine.

The blade was between his teeth for a moment as he single-handedly rolled up my sleeves.

Then, in a flash, he took the blade in hand once more and split the skin on one forearm. I clenched my teeth and yelled, kicking out.

Jeff cursed and struck me across the face, the side of my face slamming into the wall.

"Fuck you!" I growled, after a hoarse cry escaped my lips. I kicked again,getting enough space to free my arms, blood running from one. I shoved him and landed a kick to the middle of his torso, sending him back.

"Bitch!"

"You, sir, deserve to suffer a horrible death!" I blurted as I ran for the door, slipping through it and slamming the door.

For some reason, I felt like myself again. I didn't know how, violence was never part of my old life, e_ver._ But I felt good, despite the gush of blood coming from my arm and the ache in the side of my face.

Laughing, I made my way down the hall and back to the main room.

Something was definitely going wrong in my mind. The gears weren't turning right anymore.

_Shit... Am I turning into one of them? A killer?_

* * *

**Soo :D How'd you guys like it? My writing style has kind of changed since I started this, or last left off. Just by a smidge. But still, it's not bad. I think it's for the better. Anyway, I'm sorry for how long it's been since I updated, I'm in a whirlwind of bullshit from a lot of people, yet I still tried to find time to write for you guys. Again, sorry.  
**

**Also, I've been reading reviews. I love how much feedback I've gotten xD All so encouraging, despite how poorly written I think this is. But eh. I take everything you guys suggest or say into consideration, so feel free to drop ideas or things like that into a review. I read all of 'em. c:**

**Until next chapter~- Broken Blackk Dahlia  
**


	7. 6

**6.**

As I patched my arm up, Dahlia ran me over with questions. Blubbering about how scared she was when she saw the blood and such, to which I answered with a lie. Apparently I'm not skilled with blades, at all. Cut myself because the damn thing slipped.

_Pfffft. Yeah right._

But I didn't want to ruin her image of Jeff. She saw him to be a pretty good guy, which meant he wasn't such an asshole after all. Or he had a sense of mercy or compassion for little kids. Or maybe he just hated me. Either way, didn't want to ruin it for her.

Rising from my spot and gingerly patting Dahlia on the head, I sighed, "Go watch some more Ghost Adventures. I'm going to find Slendy and see if we can go get our old stuff."

Dahlia seemed puzzled. "Our old stuff?" she asked, looking up at me.

_Alright... I'm confused now. What the hell?_ _Did she not remember our home? _

I pursed my lips, looking down at her with narrow red eyes. She didn't remember home and she's acting like she's five. The change caused a mental impairment somehow... Maybe it was the fact that bad memories were associated with the place, so she wanted to forget about it...

_Psychology, _I thought. That had to be it. The mind tunes out things the things they don't like, the bad memories. The ones that can scar a kid for life. Like seeing your parents, dead. Or witnessing your sister having her face cut open, then get knocked out. That's a good one, too.

The biggest one in all of the mess, is living with two murderers. One who rips people open, removes their guts, and replaces said organs wrapped in plastic bags, and the other being a lunatic who rushes people and cuts them open for the hell of it.

"Okay, " I took a deep breath. "Nevermind. I didn't say anything about another home... This is your home." I gestured around us, moving my arms to elaborate that this giant place was where she had been from childhood. Though, that was definitely a lie.

I was bullshitting my little sister.

_I'm a horrible person, no doubt about it._

Laughing aloud, my voice dropped to naught but a whisper. "But it's nothing close to my home. This is a hellhole."

Then I turned to see Slenderman in the doorway. He seemed to eyelessly look at me in confusion, questioning what happened without even a ripple of static to voice it. He seemed to have cooled off from whatever fit he threw at Jeff. No matter what it may have been, it had to of been terrible. The faceless horror seemed fairly chill until then.

Unless I just saw him in the wrong light.

_Oh well._

I mouthed my attacker's name to the tall man, keeping it away from innocent ears, and he seemed to ripple with anger.

"Now, now." A voice came from behind Slendy. One that was all too familiar and hair-raising. "No need to throw a fit in front of dear Dahlia or her sister. Wait... no. Go crazy towards Beautiful, here, but not the kid."

"Beautiful?" I snorted, trying to keep my cool. Even still,a blush spread over my snowy cheeks. He had to be kidding.

After tormenting nonstop from the moment I saw him, he goes and says that. Haunting eyes, in the back of my mind for that first while before the gruesome deaths unfolded on the ground floor of our house, and in my dreams - pardon me, _nightmares._

That was just bullshit.

He's shitting me, now.

Speaking of the house, I remembered that my aunt and her husband would take the house if anything ever happened to the family. That meant I'd get to deal with them, showing my face.

But I was rumored as dead, no doubt. Disappearing like that, in a slew of blood - my own splattered through my room - screamed _dead_. Though our bodies weren't there. Not suspicious at all, no. I wondered what the cops thought when they arrived, if they ever did.

Sighing, I took a moment to think. Aunt Clara wouldn't dare sell any of our stuff. Not too soon, at least. She was close to my sister and me, even though I was a somewhat-recent addition to the family, she took to me kindly. Her husband, too, was a remarkable man. All too kind, judgement for the horrid Albinism never once crossing their lips.

Constantly, we were given senseless gifts and things. I always got something things ranging from clothes to new hard drives, and Dahlia received plushies and 'kawaii' clothes from the Tokyo shops in the mall. Sometimes we'd get trinkets from their travels, and other times large boxed things.

Gifts brought me back to my nightmare, of being skewered after receiving a gift from 'Mark Slender' and my little Dahlia. Cringing, I brought myself back to reality.

Static disrupted the air and a voice came through it. "Are you ready to fetch your old things? Jeff will be accompanying you to handle any trouble that may arise." the voice said. The speak of the psychotic killer just in the hall made Slenderman sound uneasy about the idea. Then he continued. "I, too will be going. Dahlia will stay behind with BEN."

I blinked. "Okay..."

_Who was BEN?_

Pulling Dahlia into a hug for a moment, I smiled down at her and told her I would be back as soon as I could be. Within the day. Then I proceeded to hushedly tell her of all the marvelous things I would bring back with me, and she smiled in delight at my words.

They were all things she'd previously owned at the house, of course, but she obviously didn't remember them.

Goddamn psychological shit. Tuning out the terrible things that happened. Though, I don't blame her. If I could, I would've done the same. But I guess I'm just too messed up to be capable of it, the reality is something I can somehow easily come to accept.

_The gears, they aren't turning right anymore. _

Shuffling past Slenderman into the hall, I was greeted by Jeff, who held a blade. His once psychotic look was somewhat apologetic for a moment, before snapping into the crude expression it held other times I'd seen him.

"You might need this." he said briefly, pushing the cold weapon he held into my hand, before looking away nonchalantly.

I looked down at it, then growled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Preparedness. You'd be surprised with what you encounter out there."

_What the hell does that mean? We're going to my old home, not into some place filled with enemies.. right?_

_ Well. Normal people would be prey, enemies, now. I'm turning into a God forsaken psycho, after all._

…

Slendy could teleport like in the games, and he dropped Jeff and myself in the woods nearest my old house. He instructed that he would come find us if we were gone too long, after handing me a sheet of paper with the manson's address scrawled on it. It was as if he knew my intentions to snag a form of transportation. After trekking through massive amounts of overgrowth, we reached the streets. A night jogger passed when we first emerged, and, out of his need for bloodshed, Jeff quickly did away with the man.

That aside, we quickly made our way to my old home. Night had long fallen hours back, so concealing ourselves wasn't really a problem. Well, other than the fact that I was as white as a piece of paper, with my damned white hair and white jacket, while Jeff was almost the same bright white as myself.

I took a deep breath as we strolled down the street, coming to a stop in front of the majestic house that I once called home. A wave of nausea hit and I hunched, shaking.

The lights were on, meaning that Clara and her husband were, indeed, there. She would no doubt hear my rustling and come up, and, if worse comes to worse, misfortune might come upon her. My lovely backup, Jeff, would come in and do some damage while I finished up and fled the house, to meet Slendy in the forest, hopefully followed by Jeff.

"Oh my God, what am I doing?" I asked, straightening up. Red eyes looked to the paneled window with closed dark curtains. It was my room, my window. Rod iron trellis aided climbing vines up the house's side, coming up and wrapping around the window frame of only my room.

Christina thought it was unsightly for her and Michael's balcony and windows, while Dahlia hadn't cared for it. I was the only one who really liked the idea, so Michael put up the intricately-designed trellis for the vines to wrap and grow.

The metal had never served a purpose other than visual pleasure, but now it served as my method of access to the house.

Jeff sighed. "You're breaking into your old house to repossess your old shit." he stated bluntly, twirling his bloodied blade in his fingers.

The bastard had been acting strangely for awhile by then, and it was getting on my nerves. I didn't understand his change of heart. Going from cutting me up and throwing me around, to giving a compliment of sorts.

"Really?" I asked sarcastically, trying to get my thoughts away from how wrong this was. I quietly made my way across the marshy front lawn and to the trellis I would be scaling, placing my hands on the black metal matted with vines and chilled by water.

Taking a deep breath, I started up, scaling it quickly as if I had done it before. My foot slipped once and I bit back the terrified scream that almost escaped my lips. Continuing up, my hands slid along the metal sides easily, even over the bumps of vines.

"You need help opening the window?" Jeff called up in a whisper-yell. I glanced down at him, he was standing at the base of the trellis, hands on the metal as if he were ready to ascend.

I gave a nod and he did the same in return, quickly making his way up. Of course he did this with more ease than I had, it was what he did regularly. Going to ridiculous extents to make his kill gave him that easiness. I rolled my eyes at the thought, awkwardly shuffling to one side of the trellis.

Much to my horror, doing so, along with our combined weight made the vines snap loose from the side of the house. I gave a quiet sound or alarm, and Jeff took hold of me with one arm and barely managed to steady the structure with the other.

My heart thumped erratically against my chest, eyes wide with horror at the thoughts of the outcome if Jeff hadn't gotten hold of the window's framing and pulled us back.

He worked quickly, releasing me, and managed to jam the window open soundlessly. "Get inside, " he commanded gruffly, pushing me past him. I barely caught myself as I was forced through the window. "Since this won't hold us a second time with all your shit, your family will either have to cooperate or die." he said direly.

I scowled. "You wouldn't dare." My voice was hardly above a whisper as Jeff pulled himself through the window and yanked the curtains shut.

"If they call the cops, we won't be able to get out with your things. If you're willing to leave your things behind and abandon this, then we'll make it. If not, some shit's going to happen."

Fuming, I silently went to my dresser and began rustling through it. I grabbed my old duffel bag from the closet and stuffed clothes into it, grabbing handfuls from my drawer of underthings and numerous shirts. Several pairs of skinny jeans made their way in, too, along with boots and shoes of sorts. I swept my arm over the vanity and pushed all of my makeup in, along with toiletries and hair things that I kept in there.

Jeff kept to one shadowed corner of the room, arms folded. He was just observing after not receiving a response out of me from the cop remark.

The splatter of blood was still there, and my box of things lay on the floor, discarded after my current partner knocked me out many days back. Suddenly, I asked, "How long has it been?"

"Two weeks." was the response I got after a moment's hesitation. I frowned.

The floor creaked in the hall and I looked to Jeff for some guidance. He held up his hands defensively, unblinking eyes never once leaving mine, letting me know this was my business for the time being. I handled it the way I would until shit hit the fan twofold, then he would step in and deal his way.

Taking a breath, I crept into the darkness, slipping through the door. Thankfully, my small frame allowed for quiet and easy maneuvering through the place. From where I was, I saw Clara's silhouette. Her back was to me, I could tell, her dark brown hair apparently swept over one shoulder. The white nightshirt she wore was disgruntled, obviously. It was about two in the morning, so it made sense to why.

I rushed forward, quickly pulling her back to me as Jeff had done to me when he slaughtered my face. The blade was pressed to her throat in an instant and I uttered, "Don't say a word, Clara. Don't scream, don't panic. Just cooperate."

I couldn't believe I was doing what I was, but I felt so at ease doing so now that I had started. I felt Jeff's presence move to the doorway, leaning in its frame to see how I would go about things.

"Wh-who are you?" Clara asked, obviously panic-stricken. She didn't dare move, nor look over her shoulder. I prayed she wouldn't look at what I had become.

"Xandra." I said quietly. I felt her tense.

"I thought... you were dead?" she whispered frantically, turning in my grasp. I suddenly lowered the blade. I didn't wish to do any harm to her unless I had to.

I sighed. "You're not wrong." She opened her mouth to speak, but I resumed. "Who I was before is long gone, I'm... going mad. If this isn't evident enough." I gestured to my face, the unevenly stitched wound throbbing in time to my heart.

She gasped. "You did that to yourself... Why?" she asked quietly, a hand coming up to my face and run gingerly over the wound.

I could almost feel Jeff's gaze boring into my back in disapproval. Honestly, I didn't want her to know I was accompanied and mutilated by a killer, let alone living with a few. It was overwhelmingly strange once I stopped to think about it.

"Yes, I did... But please... You can't call the authorities or notify anyone of my being alive. It's crucial."

"But... but I could get you help. You could go to a psych ward, you could get therapy and have your face fixed!" the woman in front of me whispered hopefully. She wanted me to come back and be normal, resume life. I couldn't possibly do that, not after what's happened.

"I don't want help, I want to pass through my madness on my own. I'll even take my life if necessary. So please, just... do as I ask, Clara." I lied. I wouldn't kill myself, it actually seemed interesting to discover what would come of me in these conditions.

"Alright..." she murmured. "Why are you here?" Her blue eyes were filled with hurt, confusion, and a whirlwind of other emotions.

"To get some things. I have Dahlia, and I want to restore at least a bit of our old life." I said hushedly, my hands gently holding her forearms. I was pretty good at feigning honesty and concern, purity. God damn, how sick it made me to do this. Not just because of how stupid and cliche I probably sounded, but because of these lies I was giving her. It was like spoon feeding a baby and playing the airplane trick.

_No, damn it, food isn't an airplane. Airplanes are airplanes. Food goes in your mouth. Not motherfucking spoon-airplanes._

I gave a smiled as she nodded. "Do you want any help?"

"I think I'm fine. I'm just going to sift through and pick up her favorite things... Also, where are mom's car keys?"

She blinked at me. "You don't have your license."

My mouth formed a bitter line. It took a lot not to fire off things that I would soon after regret. Still, I held my tongue. "I can still drive, though." I said, biting back the scornful tone that threatened to come through.

"Go find your things, " she sighed in deafeat, tired eyes looking over her shoulder. "Get what you want, but keep quiet. Joshua is asleep." Turning, she left me in the hall. Her form disappeared down the long hall and staircase.

Turning, I came to face Jeff. "If she calls the cops, you take the damn keys from her and bail. I'll find my way back." I nodded slowly, before pushing past him. I got back to my room and packed what I could, disconnecting my desktop and numerous computer screens that littered the shelves and top of my desk. I snatched Christina's old laptop from the shelf and placed it with them.

I slipped into Dahlia's room and packed what I recalled were her favorites. All the clothes, hand-me-downs and and not, and her stuffed toys. I packed her iPad and some shoes, before returning to the hall, where Jeff had moved my desktop, screens, and laptop to.

Clara emerged with the keys in her hands. "The tank's still over half full." she said, seeming a bit off. I took a look at Jeff over my shoulder. He was still in the darker of the shadows, keeping a watchful eye on my aunt.

"Thank you, " I said quietly. "Now, go to sleep." Then I caught myself as I took the keys from her. I sounded like Jeff just then.

His laugh erupted from behind me.

"Damn it!"

Jeff commanded for me to go, and I reluctantly did.

Clara looked alarmed and she moved for her bedroom. I could hear her phone dialing three numbers.

I snatched up the duffel bags I packed, along with my laptop and a keyring of flash drives, along with a hard drive and made my way down the hall. Rushedly, I kicked the door to the garage open and slipped through, pressing the garage door opener with my elbow as I made my way through.

"This is complete bullshit!" I spat, opening the trunk of sleek midnight-blue 2010 Camaro. Cramming the things inside and slamming it shut, I yelled for Jeff through the open door. Police sirens were in the distance, now.

"Go on!" I heard him yell in response.

_Stubborn son of a bitch, he can get away with me and he knows it._

"Come on, damn it!"

After no reply, I hissed and ran inside. I quickly went up the stairs, slamming open the door to the master bedroom. "Son of a bitch, come on, Jeff!" I growled.

He had Clara's husband by his throat backed to the wall. He yanked the blade from his stomach and growled under his breath as he stormed to me and took my arm, hustling me down the stairs and through the house.

Clara stepped into my way, a phone-in hand. I cringed and Jeff urged me forward, his hand taking mine and pushing into the pocket of my hoodie. I felt the knife's handle in it and looked over my shoulder at him.

"We're going to get caught if you don't move." he hissed in my ear, hunching over me, knife at-hand.

I cringed and pushed away, bounding into the garage. Making a face, I slid into the Camaro, ignoring Clara's dying screech. Jamming the keys into the ignition, I started it. The interior was normal, except for the fact that it was a stick shift, not an automatic. Christina always preferred them.

Jeff darted through the door, circling round the back of the car to hurriedly rip the only license plate off and discard it, before hopping into the passenger's side.

Pressing the clutch, I skipped gears and swerved out of the dimly lit garage, lights off, into the night, rapidly shifting gears and increasing speed by the moment.

"Why the hell didn't you kill her, yourself?" Jeff spat, glaring at me. My eyes were on the dark road. I heard the sirens behind, coming to the house and sighed. Once I was out of range, I flicked on the lights so I could see where I was going.

"I dunno, maybe because it's my aunt. I mean, fuck. I can't kill them that easily. Anyone who could do such a thing so easily is sick." I said.

I caught myself after that, slowing to a stop in the middle of the road. I turned to Jeff and frowned, looking at him. "Shit... I'm sorry."

* * *

**So, reviews are appreciated :3 Tell me how I'm doing so far, hopefully it isn't too bad. Until next chapter, guys~**


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